


Charmed 108: Absent Fathers, Part 2

by Metal_Ox137



Series: Charmed AU1 [8]
Category: Charmed (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-22
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-22 20:04:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4848707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Metal_Ox137/pseuds/Metal_Ox137
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phoebe begins the search for Paige's father, and Paige casts her first spell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Charmed 108: Absent Fathers, Part 2

It was a bright and bitterly cold Sunday morning in San Francisco, and in Prue Trudeau's living room, the weak winter sunlight peeked furtively around the edges of the patio curtains - finding both Paige Matthews and Phoebe Halliwell sleeping side by side in the sofa hide-a-bed. After arriving back in San Francisco in the very early hours of the morning, Phoebe had made up the bed for Paige, but in her exhaustion, never made it back to her own.  
Phoebe stirred as she heard a key in the lock, and groggily lifted her head to see Darryl Morris and Prue's four year old daughter Patience coming in through the doorway.  
"Auntie Phoebe!" Patience called gleefully.  
"Shh," Darryl admonished gently. "Everyone's still asleep. You have to be quiet, okay?"  
"Okay, daddy," Patience answered, quickly shedding herself of her coat and boots.  
Phoebe propped herself up on one elbow, and realized with chagrin that she was only wearing a t-shirt.  
"What time is it?" she whispered to Darryl.  
"Just after ten," he whispered back.  
"Ten?!" With a groan, Phoebe flopped herself back down on the bed, staring up at the thin sliver of electric light spilling in from the hallway outside. Next to her, Paige was gently snoring, dead to the world.  
"Late night?" Darryl asked with a grin, still whispering, as he closed the door quietly and hung up his coat.  
"Very," Phoebe assured him.  
"I'm going to put on some coffee then."  
"Sounds great, thanks, Darryl."  
Patience came to Phoebe's side of the hide-a-bed. "Are you going to get up now, Auntie Phoebe?" she whispered.  
"Yes, sweetie, I'll go put on some clothes and join you in the kitchen, okay?"  
"Okay."  
"Your mommy and Auntie Paige are still asleep, so be very quiet."  
"I will."  
Phoebe couldn't help but grin as Patience scampered into the kitchen. Wearily, she pushed herself up out of the bed, and pulled her shirt down as far as she could manage, then bolted for the privacy of her own bedroom.  
She returned to the kitchen a few minutes later dressed in a sweatshirt, jeans and heavy woolen socks. Darryl offered her a large mug of coffee with cream already in it, and she took it gratefully.  
"Thanks, Darryl. You're a lifesaver as always."  
Patience was tucking into a bowl of corn flakes and milk.  
"She was up at six," Darryl smiled wearily. "She had breakfast then, too. Couldn't wait to come home to her mom and her aunties."  
Phoebe settled herself into a chair nearest the window and stared blearily out at the heatless winter sun.  
"Is it cold out?" she asked.  
"About twenty."  
"Yikes." Phoebe took a sip of coffee, closed her eyes, and inhaled the aroma as if it were a restorative.  
Darryl joined her at the table with a bran muffin and banana to go with his coffee.  
"I have a confession to make," he said quietly.  
"Sorry, what?" Phoebe looked up.  
"I owe you an apology."  
Phoebe looked at Darryl blankly, not understanding. "What for?"  
Darryl made a moue of chagrin. "When you first got here, I was pretty sure you weren't who you said you were," he admitted with a heavy sigh.  
"What, you mean, you thought I was the other Phoebe?"  
Darryl nodded soberly.  
"Even though she's dead?"  
"Phoebe, you didn't know this woman. She had powers that were downright scary." He took a sip from his coffee cup, only too aware that Patience was in earshot, and wanting to temper his remarks. "And when you told Prue you wanted to bring magic back, I was sure something terrible was going to happen. Even if you weren't - the other Phoebe," Darryl said carefully, "I was sure your being here was bad news. I was wrong. You're the best thing that's ever happened to Prue."  
"I am?" Phoebe seemed bemused.  
Darryl pursed his lips, clearly wanting to consider his remarks before speaking them aloud. "When Andy and your sisters died," he said finally, "Actually, I mean Prue's sisters-" he grimaced with irritation.  
"It's okay, Darryl, I'm following."  
"A part of Prue died with them. She was broken, Phoebe. You didn't see her then, and I am really, really glad you didn't."  
Phoebe didn't answer, carefully taking another swallow from her coffee.  
"You've healed her," Darryl said quietly. "I prayed for months - hell, years - that she could just, somehow, let go of the pain. She was trying. Really trying. She loved Patience. She loved me. I could see that. But she wasn't feeling . . . anything. She was closed off. But after she met you, everything changed."  
"I remember," Phoebe nodded somberly, thinking back to when she and Prue first met. "She was so sad, it hurt."  
"She's happy now. Happier than I've ever seen her," Darryl said. "There is such joy in her now, and you're the reason for it. You gave her back her life, Phoebe. As far as I'm concerned, your being here is nothing short of a miracle," he said with complete sincerity.  
Phoebe felt her cheeks flush. She bowed her head, feeling very humbled.  
"Anyway, I was totally wrong about you. And I just wanted to say I'm sorry, and . . . I'm glad, very glad, that you came to live here."  
For a moment, Phoebe couldn't trust herself to speak. She reached across the table and squeezed Darryl's hand.  
Patience had finished her corn flakes, and clambered up into Phoebe's lap. Phoebe hugged her niece tightly and kissed her.  
"I love you so much," Phoebe murmured softly. She closed her eyes and held the child, momentarily overcome with emotion.  
"Will you read me a story?" Patience asked.  
Phoebe and Darryl couldn't help laughing out loud.  
"Yes, sweetie, I will," Phoebe assured her niece. "But . . . I think it's time we rolled your Auntie Paige out of bed, okay?"  
"Is that a good idea?" Darryl grinned.  
"Can't let her sleep the day away. We had kind of planned to do magic class today," Phoebe admitted with a smile.  
"Well, wake her gently, then," Darryl suggested. "I get the feeling Paige is not a morning person."  
"Who in this family is?" Phoebe countered, lifting her niece off her lap and getting up from the table. Before crossing the room, she leaned over to kiss Darryl on the cheek.  
"Thank you," she murmured.  
Darryl merely gave her a subdued smile in reply.  
"All right, Patience, go snuggle up to your Auntie Paige, and we'll see if she's ready to get up yet," Phoebe whispered to her niece.  
"Okay," Patience whispered back, and clambered up onto the hide-a-bed.  
"If she's not ready to get up, we'll go check on your mom."  
Paige was no longer snoring, and she had rolled over onto her side. Patience snuggled against her, and Paige made a little snort of surprise as her eyes fluttered open.  
"Good morning, Auntie Paige," Patience said politely.  
"Sweetie?" Paige murmured, still not entirely awake. After a moment, her eyes closed again.  
Phoebe was about to suggest to Patience that they check on Prue instead, when Paige drew in a deep breath and rolled over onto her back.  
"What time is it?" she mumbled.  
"Almost ten-thirty," Phoebe grinned.  
"Oh, fuck," Paige groaned, and then she propped herself up on one elbow, eyes still swollen with sleep. "Sorry, sorry," she apologized with a grimace. "Patience, your Auntie Paige says a lot of bad words. Don't say those things, okay?"  
"I won't, Auntie Paige."  
"And I'll try not to say any more bad words either." She collapsed back down on the bed, momentarily defeated. "My eyes won't open," she complained sourly.  
Phoebe clambered into the hide-a-bed on the other side, spooning her sister. She gently pushed the tangle of dark hair away from her sister's face.  
"Want some coffee?" she asked.  
Paige drew in another deep breath, her body obviously restarting itself. "Mmm. Give me a few minutes? Please?"  
"Okay, Patience, let's give Auntie Paige some breathing space," Phoebe said softly. "She's not properly awake yet."  
Patience didn't answer, seemingly fascinated by the tattoos running down Paige's arm. Dressed only in her camisole, Paige's arms were bare. The child ran her small fingers across the designs, tracing their outlines.  
Paige sighed deeply, shifting herself in the bed as her circulation began to kick in. Her eyes were still closed, but she was swimming upstream towards waking.  
Phoebe decided to risk parting the curtains slightly. A feeble ray of winter sunlight barely penetrated the gloom.  
Prue came out of her bedroom, dark hair tousled, eyes puffy with sleep, wearing only her heavy blue bathrobe and slippers over her nightgown. She was not much more awake than Paige, but smiling happily.  
"Good morning," she mumbled, then added, "I think."  
"Morning's almost over," Phoebe pointed out with a grin.  
Patience clambered off the bed to give her mother a fierce hug. "Well, good morning, sunshine," Prue said to her daughter, bending over slightly to kiss her forehead. "Darryl's here?" she asked.  
"In the kitchen." Phoebe jerked her thumb towards the only part of the apartment with light.  
Wearily, Prue trudged into the kitchen. Darryl was waiting for her, giving her a quick hug and kiss before guiding her to the closest chair, then setting a large mug of coffee with cream and two sugars in front of her. Patience seemingly understood the adults would need to talk, and contented herself by snuggling into her mother's lap.  
"So, how'd it go yesterday?" Darryl asked, when they were all seated together.  
"It was amazing," Prue's sleepy smile had a radiance that outshone the winter sun. "Paige's foster parents are such great people. I'm really glad we got a chance to meet them."  
"They've adopted us," Phoebe added.  
"Really," Darryl chuckled.  
"Seriously," Phoebe declared, placing one hand over her heart. "Prue and I are now part of the Matthews family. They said so."  
"And Phoebe was amazing yesterday, again," Prue declared, reaching over to the bowl for an apple muffin.  
"Oh, yes?" Darryl grinned at Phoebe, and Phoebe felt herself flush again.  
"I - we - had a chance to find out who Paige's birth father was," Phoebe began haltingly. "The Matthews family has a quilt from when Paige was born. It was the one she was wrapped up in, when she was left at the church. I thought, maybe I could intuit something from it."  
"You did a lot more than that," Prue prodded with a smile, biting into her muffin.  
"You know sometimes I have premonitions," Phoebe tried to explain to Darryl. "My power doesn't work the same here as it did back . . . where I'm from," she added awkwardly. "Here, I don't usually see an image, it's more like - a flash of insight. But yesterday, I got a very clear image, very strong, of our mom and Paige's dad. Darryl, I could see them, as clearly as I see you now."  
"Wow."  
"That's not the amazing bit. Tell him, Phoebe," Prue urged between bites on her muffin.  
"I cast a spell," Phoebe admitted shyly. "I just - I wanted Paige to see what her dad looked like. I didn't want to be the only one who saw him."  
"She cast a spell so we could all see the image from her premonition," Prue clarified. "Darryl, this was incredible. It was like she had a movie of them, and she 'projected' the movie for us. We - we saw mom," she added.  
"You saw Patty?"  
Phoebe nodded. "Apparently, our mom was seeing at least one other guy besides Victor. But none of us recognized him. I'm pretty sure I've never seen him before." She frowned slightly as an idea occurred to her.  
"Darryl, you have sketch artists at your station, don't you?"  
"Sure we do. And most of them are bored senseless from lack of work."  
"Do you think - you could take me to see one of them?" Phoebe asked. "I have this picture of Paige's dad in my head. But I'm no artist. I couldn't put a likeness on paper."  
"Actually, our best artist is on call this afternoon," Darryl said. "She's probably spending the day filing reports, instead of actually drawing anything. I'm sure she wouldn't mind if we paid her a visit. She'd probably be grateful for the distraction."  
"Do you mind?" Phoebe asked Prue, and Prue gave her sister a reassuring smile.  
"It's no trouble, Phoebe," Prue declared. "I can teach Paige some magic this afternoon, but you can do something far more important. You might be able to help us find her birth father."  
"I was thinking about that on the way home last night," Phoebe admitted. "Prue, what if - Paige's dad is still alive, and we can find him? He might be able to tell us some things about mom. Not just for Paige, but for all of us."  
"That occurred to me, too," Prue admitted. "I didn't want to get my hopes up."  
"Sounds like we have a plan," Darryl said. "Phoebe, after you've finished breakfast, I'll take you downtown to meet our sketch artist."  
Phoebe regarded the state of her attire. "It's okay if I shower and change first?"  
"Absolutely," Darryl chuckled.  
"And I'll teach Paige some magic while you're out," Prue added, and then grinned, "If she ever gets up, that is."  
"Don't do too much without me," Phoebe pleaded. "I want to be in magic class, too."  
"I'll start Paige on spell writing first," Prue decided aloud. "Since you already have that down, Phoebe. And then when you get back, we can do some magic together, all three of us."  
"Sounds great," Phoebe grinned happily.  
Excited by the prospect of finding Paige's father, Phoebe showered quickly, and dressed herself in more presentable attire - grey high-necked sweater, dark slacks, shoes with closed toes against the cold, and the golden necklace that Prue and Patience had given to her at Christmas.  
As she came out of her bedroom, Paige was finally sitting up in the hide-a-bed, clinging desperately to a cup of coffee. Patience was reading aloud from one of her storybooks.  
"What's this?" Phoebe asked. "You're reading to Auntie Paige now?"  
"Her eyes aren't awake yet," Patience explained.  
"I know how that feels," Phoebe nodded with complete sympathy.  
Paige managed to open one eye and squint at her sister. "Where are you off to?"  
"Darryl and I are gonna go put out an APB on your dad," Phoebe answered.  
"Uh, Phoebe? It's a missing persons report. Not an APB," Darryl said, taking his coat from the peg.  
"What if it was the President?" Phoebe countered. "What if the President went missing? You'd put out an APB for him, wouldn't you?" She grinned mischievously.  
"I think the term you're looking for is 'BOLO'," Prue offered with a smile, watching them from the entryway to the kitchen.  
Darryl rolled his eyes. "Come on, Phoebe, let's go."  
Phoebe shrugged herself into her coat. "Okay, see you later, guys. Don't do too much magic without me!"  
"Bye," Prue called after them.  
After Darryl and Phoebe had left, Prue settled herself on the hide-a-bed next to her daughter and sister.  
"I don't have to get up yet, do I?" Paige pleaded.  
Prue smiled at her sister. "No. You don't," she assured her. "I'm not ready to get up, either. I need to take a shower and get dressed, and have something other than an apple muffin for breakfast. Maybe Patience will finish reading us both a story, until we can decide to get going."  
"You read it, mommy," Patience said, passing the book to her mother.  
"Are you sure, sweetie?" Prue asked. "You were doing such a great job, reading to Auntie Paige. Can you read a little bit more for us?"  
"I like to hear you read," Paige added with a smile, for the first time both eyes open.  
Patience opened her book again, and the two sisters settled in on either side of her, for their own private story-time.

* * *

As Darryl and Phoebe walked into the precinct house, Phoebe noted again how quiet and silent the building seemed. Except for the desk sergeant, there was no one else in sight.  
"Hey, Jeff," Darryl greeted the sergeant warmly.  
"Morris! What are you doing in here on your day off?" the sergeant grinned.  
"I'm never off duty, you know that. Is Lien around?"  
"Yeah, she's here somewhere. I'm guessing back in the file room. Taking a statement?" he guessed, quickly printing up a visitor's badge for Phoebe.  
"Filing a missing persons. Thanks, Jeff," Darryl smiled. "Come on, Phoebe, this way."  
They started down one of the empty corridors. Phoebe looked around her, in slight apprehension.  
"I know this is a Sunday, but . . . shouldn't there be more people around?" Phoebe asked.  
"People stopped committing crimes," Darryl shrugged.  
"What, all of them?" Phoebe was trying desperately to remember what she could from her first visit, when she met Darryl's partner, Danny Kershaw. She had been distracted at the time, but she couldn't recall seeing very many people in the station that day, either.  
"More or less. Ever since Prue was in that big demon battle three years ago."  
"So, nobody commits a crime, ever? Not even jaywalking?"  
"I didn't say that," Darryl grinned. "But crimes reported to the police have dropped off to a fraction of what they used to be."  
"Nobody thinks that's weird?"  
"Oh, it's definitely weird," Darryl allowed. "I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. Prue says that everyone in San Francisco, demons and regular people alike, had all the evil just sort of . . . sucked out of them. I still have a hard time believing that."  
"Yeah, but you seem normal," Phoebe objected. "I know how that sounds, please don't be mad."  
"It's okay, I know what you mean," Darryl nodded. "We kind of live in Zombie City now. It does creep me out some days. Most folks just don't seem to have the energy to do much of, well, anything, really."  
"Some folks seem to be okay, though."  
"Yeah, not a lot, but offhand I'd say, on any given day, you'll see only about a quarter of the number of people you'd normally see, before that big magic explosion happened."  
"So, what, everyone just sits at home and watches cable TV?"  
"What's cable TV?" Darryl frowned.  
Phoebe grimaced. "Nothing. It doesn't matter. Forget I said anything."  
"In a way, it's been a blessing," Darryl said thoughtfully. "I have no problem with fewer crimes being committed. And for the first time in months, we've had the time to go through the backlog of cold cases, and give them some of the attention they deserve."  
They had reached a large office area with several desks. The overhead lights were off, but some of the washed-out winter daylight seeped in through the windows. Apart from the hushed whirr of an electric fan, there was no noise anywhere.  
"Take a seat," Darryl invited her. "I'll check the file room first."  
"This is your desk?" Phoebe asked.  
"Where the magic doesn't happen," Darryl grinned. "Be right back."  
Phoebe settled down into the chair and looked around her. Empty desks, empty chairs. Most of the desks did not even have inboxes or papers on them. Darryl's desk did have a lamp, and Phoebe switched it on. The lamp hummed softly and left a pitiful pond of feeble yellow light immediately around the lamp base. She shut it off.  
Phoebe saw a small framed photo of Darryl, Prue and Patience on the desk. The photo appeared to be a year old, as Patience looked to be somewhere between two or three years of age. Phoebe picked up the frame and studied the photo intently. Prue was smiling into the camera, but Phoebe didn't need her special gifts to sense that at the time Prue was simply putting on a brave face, feigning a happiness she did not feel. The love between Prue and Darryl was genuine enough, Phoebe had been able to sense that. But the Prue in this photo was still heartbroken. _Time for a new photograph,_ Phoebe thought to herself with a subdued smile.  
Darryl returned, with a small, attractive Chinese woman about thirty years of age.  
"Phoebe, this is Lien Wang, one of our sketch artists. Lien, this is Phoebe Halliwell."  
"Ah!" The young woman exclaimed with a bright smile. "She is soon to be your sister in law, yes?" She extended her hand. "So nice to meet you, Phoebe."  
Lien's accent was quite thick, and as they clasped hands in greeting Phoebe's power of premonition suddenly kicked in. Without seeing any images in her mind's eye, a flood of information was instantly available to Phoebe: she knew that Lien was a first generation immigrant, unmarried, arrived as a student six years ago, and stayed on when one of the precinct captains offered to put her artistic talents to use. Both parents and one brother still living, all in China, in the Hunan Province. She was lonely, but liked the city well enough, and shared an apartment with one of the other girls from the office. Lien's parents would only approve a marriage if she returned home to China. Phoebe also caught glimpses of some of Lien's police sketches, as well as some private artwork done for recreation, and while Phoebe's understanding of art was somewhat limited, it was obvious that Lien had a great gift for transposing visual images to paper or other media.  
It was disconcerting to Phoebe to get all that information in such a rush, but at least she was spared the debilitating and sometimes embarrassing way her gift used to manifest itself. Before, whenever she had a premonition, it played out in her head like a film, and she was more or less frozen in real time while the events transpired before her. Now, her gift was more like flashes of insight, which allowed her to recover instantly, to continue her conversations or train of thought uninterrupted.  
"Hello, Lien, it's nice to meet you, too." Father Desheng, mother Xiaoyan, brother Jing-Sheng. Faces flashed by for each.  
"Phoebe needs to fill in a missing persons report," Darryl explained. "It has to do with an abandoned child about - what - twenty-three years ago?" He looked to Phoebe for confirmation.  
"Paige was born in 1977," Phoebe offered. "She told me her birthday is August second, but I don't know how accurate that is. The nuns might have been making a best guess for her birth certificate."  
"It's a start. I'll pull any files we have on child abandonment from that year, and see what we can find. I'll have to wait until tomorrow to get copies of any adoption papers the Matthews may have signed," he apologized. "Lien, Phoebe thinks she can give you enough information on Paige's father to try to make a sketch. He's the one we're looking for."  
"Great!" Lien smiled. "Let me get my sketchpad, I'll be right back. Would you like tea?"  
"Tea would be great, Lien, thanks."  
As she was left alone, Phoebe frowned slightly. Lien did not appear to be an innocent in need of saving, yet Phoebe's power of premonition had kicked in. Was there something there she was meant to see, and missed it?  
_Or maybe you're still getting the hang of using your powers in this reality,_ Phoebe reminded herself. _It took you a while to figure out how to make them work back home, too._  
Lien returned in a few moments with a large leather satchel under one arm, and two styrofoam cups, one in either hand. Paper tags from the teabags dangled from the lips of each cup.  
"Sorry, no green tea," she apologized, setting the cups down. "Americans don't drink green tea for some reason. I don't know why. It's so much better."  
Phoebe grinned to herself. Something else that had yet to catch on in this reality. "Regular tea is just fine, Lien, thank you," she said, taking one of the cups.  
Lien opened her satchel and pulled out a large sketchpad and a box filled with charcoal pencils and kneaded rubber erasers.  
A name was floating in the front of Phoebe's mind. "Lien, do you . . . know a boy named Sheng Li?" she asked hesitantly.  
Lien looked up, startled, but her face was flushed with joy and excitement. "Do you know him, too?"  
Phoebe sighed with relief. So that's what it was. She relaxed.  
"Tell your mom and dad he's the one," Phoebe said with a smile. "It's a match of Rat and Dragon, one of the best that can be made. The two of you will be very happy together."  
Lien's hand flew to her mouth, overjoyed to hear the words, even as she was bewildered to understand how Phoebe could possibly have known.  
"Don't ask," Phoebe gave Lien her warmest smile. "Now, let's see if you can help me with my problem."

* * *

It had taken a while for both Prue and Paige to get themselves going, but finally they had managed to take their showers, change into real clothes, and ended up having lunch for breakfast. Patience sat the dining table, carefully grinding crayons into her coloring book, as the two sisters sat down for another impromptu magic class.  
"So, I promised Phoebe I'd try to teach you how to write spells," Prue smiled, as she cleared the dishes away.  
"Try to?" Paige snorted. "Prue, from what Phoebe tells me, you're the source of all wisdom."  
"Hardly." Prue set down a teapot and two cups. "Phoebe's actually much better at writing spells than I am. She doesn't give herself enough credit. But - with no false modesty, I think I know enough to help you get started." She grinned and poured tea for Paige first, then herself.  
"So. Let me ask you first, what do you think of, when you hear the word 'spell'?" Prue asked. "What do you think it means?"  
Paige floundered. "Well, I - don't know," she admitted finally. "It's a spell. It makes magic work."  
Seeing Prue's expectant look, Paige thought more carefully and then elaborated. "It's usually something spoken aloud," she offered hesitantly. "But it can be something written down, too. And spells rhyme - or, at least, the ones I hear Phoebe recite all rhyme. Mostly."  
"Okay. Not bad," Prue nodded. "Let me start by telling you the first and most important rule of spell casting. There are no rules."  
"Oh, thanks, that's a big help," Paige retorted.  
"A spell is simply a way of focusing magical energy for a specific outcome. If you're writing a spell, or casting one, it's because you have a very specific action in mind."  
"Okay," Paige answered hesitantly, trying to follow along.  
"It's also a more complex form of organizing magical energy than just using your power. In fact, a lot of times when you use your power, you won't even think about it, not consciously. You'll just do it."  
"That's the part that worries me," Paige sighed.  
"Spells, on the other hand, require preparation, planning - forethought. It's a considered action, not a reflex."  
"Okay, so you have to think about it before you do it. That seems easy enough."  
"Every component of the spell - whether it's a word, or a gesture, or a locus -"  
"Sorry, a what?"  
"A locus is anything you'd use to help you focus energy. It can be an object, or an ingredient for a potion -"  
"Oh, I get it. Wing of bat, eye of newt, that kind of stuff." Paige looked at her sister with suspicion. "I think you're laughing at me," she grumbled.  
Prue gave Paige her warmest smile. "No," she said. "I'm just remembering when I first started learning how to write spells, and how hard it was for me to learn this stuff. I'm really going to try to make it easier for you, I promise. Anyway, the important part is, every component of the spell really only serves one purpose. You're trying to focus magical energy to do a specific thing."  
"Okay, I can follow you that far."  
"The words you write, or speak aloud, don't necessarily have to rhyme, although it helps if they follow any rhythm that helps you focus energy. You've noticed Phoebe writes all her spells in three rhyming couplets. Spells don't have to be written that way. Phoebe just uses that method because it works for her. In time, you'll find your own voice, and your own method of casting spells."  
"Yeah, but there has to be some rule to it," Paige objected. "You can't just make stuff up."  
"Sure you can."  
"But how?"  
"It's all about the right word, the right gesture, the right locus. Anything that helps you focus the energy belongs in the spell. Anything that doesn't is just wasted - or even detrimental. You could recite the words, 'Jellybean Supermarket', and if those are the words that help you focus magical energy, then they're the right words. In one sense, it doesn't matter what the words actually are. All that matters is, do they help you focus magic for the specific task at hand."  
"What about stuff like, saying the spell backwards, to undo it?"  
Prue shrugged. "That depends on the spell. And remember, words are just a part of the spell. There are gestures too, and there are - well, let's call them props, I guess. Bell, book and candle. Knives. Altars. Spirit boards. Some spells will only work in one specific place. And on and on."  
"Okay, I'm totally lost now."  
Prue thought for a moment. "Do you know the 'Jewel of the Lotus'?" she asked.  
"Sure. Everyone knows that," Paige answered. _"Om mani padme hum."_  
"Do you know what it means?"  
"Well, not literally, but it means, worship the Buddha, in effect."  
"Do you think you need to know the exact literal translation of the prayer, to get any benefit from reciting it?"  
"I guess not," Paige said uncertainly, and then her face brightened. "Oh. I get it! It's like a mantra."  
"Not exactly, but you're getting closer. Spells tend to be a little more syntactical than most mantras."  
Paige groaned. "Can you please use smaller words?" she pleaded. "Pretend I'm four years old, like Patience. Use words she can understand."  
Prue laughed sympathetically. "Sorry. I forget, I can sound like I swallowed a dictionary sometimes."  
"Is it really true you can speak six languages?"  
"Well . . . I know Latin, but I don't speak it aloud. I can read it, and translate it to English from text. I know English, of course - French, Greek, Italian, a little bit of Mandarin, but that's shaky - I can speak a little Japanese, too, but I can't write it."  
"How did you manage to learn all that?" Paige was astonished.  
"I learned most of it through my job," Prue shrugged. "I speak with clients from all over the world. If I know a client is coming to our office, who doesn't speak English as a first language, I try to learn a few basic, commonly used phrases in their language. It tends to help smooth over bumps in communication, and is actually a good ice breaker. And you speak Cantonese, right?"  
"A little bit," Paige admitted. "A very little bit. Just enough to make myself misunderstood."  
"I understand," Prue sighed sympathetically. "Anyway, the best way to learn about spells is to do them. So I think you and I should do one together, so you can get some practice."  
Paige shifted uncomfortably. "We're not gonna burn the building down, or anything, are we?"  
"You're in safe hands with me," Prue assured her with a smile, and Paige relaxed. "Oh, and one other thing, since we were talking about languages. You can write or recite spells in languages other than English, if it helps you focus energy. If you know a good word in Cantonese, or Mandarin, or Manchu, or whatever - and the rest of the spell is in English, it's okay. You can throw words from different languages in there. The spell only needs to rhyme if it helps you. You're not actually writing poetry, so meter and rhyme don't matter - at least, not as far as the efficacy of the spell is concerned."  
"Okay, so what do we do first?"  
"We need to pick an action, and a result. Can I make a suggestion?"  
"Please!"  
"How did you feel yesterday, when Phoebe showed you an image of your father's face?"  
"Overwhelmed," Paige answered finally. "In a good way," she added.  
"Would you like to see his face again?" Prue asked. "Would you like to be able to call up that image any time you wanted to?"  
Paige's entire expression brightened. "Yeah!"  
Prue smiled. "Okay then. We've defined what we want as an expected result. Now we'll write a spell to make it happen. Well, actually, you'll write it."  
"But, I don't know how," Paige pleaded.  
"Don't worry. I'll guide you through it," Prue said reassuringly. "The principles are easy enough. What you're looking for are words, gestures, any locus that can help you focus energy to make your father's face appear."  
Paige frowned.  
"What is it?" Prue asked.  
"I have a question. A stupid question."  
"No such thing," Prue declared flatly.  
"You'll laugh."  
"I won't. Tell me."  
"I was just thinking, why couldn't we use magic to try and contact my dad. And then I thought, but we don't even know if he's alive or dead. And what if he's dead? Could we still talk to him anyway?"  
Prue shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "Paige, I don't want to sound discouraging, but contacting any spirit, human or otherwise, is one of the most complicated forms of spell casting there is. It's a little beyond you at this point."  
"Yeah, but is it possible? Can you actually talk to dead people?" Paige asked. "I mean, you talk about your mom and your grams and your sisters all the time, but do you ever actually talk _to_ them?"  
Prue's eyes suddenly filled with tears, and Paige was horrified, thinking she'd said something terrible.  
"Oh, my God, Prue, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean -"  
"It's okay, Paige. Really, it is." Prue drew in a ragged breath and blinked furiously to keep the tears from spilling over.  
"Prue, whatever I said, I'm sorry," Paige declared contritely. "Please don't cry. I didn't mean to make you cry."  
Prue closed her eyes for a minute, and then took a long sip from her teacup. She opened her eyes again and looked at her sister, her expression utterly sober.  
"To answer your question, Paige, yes, it's possible to communicate with the dead," Prue answered, trying to keep her voice from shaking. "But the consequences of such a spell are more terrible than you can imagine."  
Paige swallowed hard, eyes wide.  
"I won't say to you, you can't ever do it. But I would say this. Before you would consider summoning a departed soul, throw yourself off the Golden Gate Bridge first. The consequences of jumping off the bridge are not as bad as the consequences of raising the dead."  
"You've actually done it, haven't you?" Paige's voice was nearly a whisper. "Raised the dead."  
"Once," Prue said, her voice barely audible. "Never again. Never again," she repeated, and then took another sip from her teacup. Paige noticed that her sister's hands were trembling.

* * * 

Darryl's sedan pulled into the underground garage of Prue's apartment building. He found a vacant space and brought the car to a stop.  
"Darryl, thank you for this," Phoebe said quietly.  
Darryl smiled at his future sister-in-law. "No problem," he assured her, as he placed the car in park and took out the key. "It's all part of the job. Protect and serve."  
Phoebe laughed. "Darryl, you're a homicide detective."  
"Mmm. I'm finding I like not having a lot of murders to investigate."  
"That surprises you?"  
"Not so much surprised," Darryl mused. "Andy and I got into police work, in part because we believed that whole 'protect and serve' thing. And we both liked the idea of figuring things out. The detecting part of the job has its rewards. But, frankly, I like the fact that I can count the number of murders to report in the last three years on the fingers of one hand." He smiled. "Missing persons may not be my area of expertise, but I'm glad to help."  
Phoebe grinned back at him. "All the same, thank you."  
"From what you've told me, it sounds like the Matthews family did a fair amount of sleuthing of their own. I'll call Mr. Matthews tomorrow to get some information. His name is Ben, right?"  
Phoebe nodded.  
"Anyway, if Paige's father is out there, and alive, we'll find him."  
Phoebe took Darryl's elbow, and arm-in-arm, they strolled companionably to the elevators.  
"So. My sister tells me you guys are taking your baby-making sessions very seriously," she began in the most severe tone she could manage, and then burst into a fit of giggles.  
Darryl rolled his eyes, but his grin went from ear to ear. "Oh, boy. I can't wait to hear this."  
"Relax, Darryl, I just wanted to know if you had your baby names beginning with 'P' picked out yet."  
Darryl's face brightened. "Does that mean -"  
"No, no, I haven't had any premonitions," Phoebe told him, and then she grinned. "But I don't need that gift to say, it's gonna happen for you guys sooner rather than later."  
As they entered the apartment, peals of laughter could be heard coming from the kitchen.  
"Sounds like magic class has been a success," Phoebe said, hanging up her coat, and scooping Patience into her arms, as the child pelted towards her with all the speed and enthusiasm of a runaway bottle rocket.  
"Hey, sweetie," Phoebe greeted her niece. "Your mom and Auntie Paige sound like they're having a good time."  
"They've been waiting for you," Patience declared.  
"Oh, well, then, let's go see," Phoebe said, carrying her niece in the crook of her arm.  
Prue and Paige were sitting at the dining table, still laughing at some private happiness.  
"Hey, you guys," Phoebe greeted them brightly. "What's going on?"  
"Go ahead, Paige, show her," Prue grinned.  
"What, you can cast a spell?" Phoebe asked, delighted. She set Patience down, who immediately scurried into Darryl's arms.  
"Just watch," Paige declared. She lifted both hands and made a series of short, delicate signings. The image of Paige's father appeared above the table for a few seconds, then vanished.  
"Sweetie, that's wonderful!" Phoebe exclaimed, then she frowned in puzzlement. "But how is that a spell? You didn't recite anything."  
"She didn't have to," Prue said.  
Phoebe cocked her head for a moment. "Wait a minute, was that . . . sign language? You can sign?"  
"Yeah, I've been able to sign for some time now," Paige nodded. "I learned it as part of my job. Prue and I were trying everything we could with me speaking aloud, and nothing seemed to work. We were talking about languages earlier, and I thought, my power focuses through my hands, so why not the spells, too? Because signing is language too."  
"So, what did you end up signing?"  
"Well, I tried to follow Prue's advice. She says the best spells are short, and only use necessary words." She smiled. "And I thought, if I wanted to see my father, what would I say to him? And it was just, 'Daddy, daddy, I love you'. So that's what I signed."  
Phoebe hugged Paige from sheer exuberance. "Sweetie, I'm so happy for you," she gushed. "This is terrific!"  
"I'm pretty buzzed," Paige admitted with a big smile. "My first spell. And I didn't blow up the apartment building!"  
"Paige is staying for dinner," Prue added as a general announcement. "Henry will be by to pick her up at eight. And I thought, we could spend the rest of the afternoon doing some magic together."  
"Glamour, I want to practice my glamour," Paige pleaded. "I want to get this down perfect, so I can try it on Henry soon."  
Prue glanced at Phoebe for her approval, and Phoebe grinned. "Sounds good to me. Are you gonna turn into Whitney Houston for Darryl?"  
Prue smiled shyly at her fiancé. "Actually, for myself, I just want to be me - but at my best, my absolute best. And for me, that means how I looked about seven years ago, when I could still fit into my slinkiest black dress."  
"Sounds good to me," Darryl grinned.  
"How about you, Phoebe?" Prue asked.  
Phoebe considered for a moment and then grinned. "I'm going to go for Ava Gardner."  
"Ooh, nice choice," Prue nodded appreciatively. "Paige, I think we all know what you're going for."  
"Tall redhead," Paige declared without any hesitation, then added with a sly grin, "Just one inch taller than Phoebe."  
Phoebe burst out laughing. "You want to do that on purpose!"  
"I'm tired of being the short one," Paige protested.  
"If you want to be tall, that's fine," Prue assured her. "Just remember, your real self is far more beautiful than any illusion."  
Paige smiled at her big sister in gratitude.  
"Okay, ladies, let's get cracking," Prue laughed. "There's all sorts of fun magic to be done!"

* * * 

The rest of the afternoon and early evening passed quickly, and for Paige, she felt cocooned in joy, sharing the day with her newly discovered family. When it was finally time to leave, she read a bedtime story to her niece, then hugged Darryl and each of her sisters tightly. She never wanted the spell of happiness to end.  
A few minutes later, Paige and Phoebe stood in the empty lobby of the apartment building, waiting for Henry's car to pull up. The panes of glass on the doors and windows had a thin layer of frost, and while the lobby wasn't freezing, it was far too cold to linger and be comfortable. By unspoken consent, the sisters huddled together, trying to share what warmth they could.  
"Thank you for this weekend," Paige said quietly.  
"You're welcome, sweetie."  
"What you guys did for me . . . I don't think I can ever repay you."  
"We're your sisters, Paige, you don't need to repay us for anything."  
"It's just . . . now I have two families, and I'm feeling very blessed."  
"Good." Phoebe gave her sister a tight squeeze. "Because we feel very blessed to have you in our family."  
They grinned at each other, as the vapor trails from their breath were visible in the cold.  
"Can I ask you something?" Paige said suddenly.  
"Sure."  
"Is Prue okay?"  
"How do you mean?" Phoebe frowned.  
Paige made a moue of vexation. "Earlier tonight, I asked her about raising the dead."  
"Wow. You sure don't mess around," Phoebe said mildly.  
"Yeah, well, when I asked her about it, Prue just froze up. She just got all . . . not scared, but - I think I really hurt her, and I didn't mean to."  
"Oh, sweetie, I'm sure she knows that," Phoebe said placatingly.  
"I think she's seen a lot of stuff she's not telling us about."  
"Paige, I _know_ she's seen stuff she's not telling us about," Phoebe assured her sister. "And believe me, she's doing that to spare us."  
"Is witchcraft really that awful?"  
"No," Phoebe said firmly, and then added with a sad note, "But demons are."  
"And she was around when demons were everywhere."  
"Pretty much."  
Paige rolled her eyes in self-disapproval. "God. When I say it like that, it sounds like she's a damn dinosaur."  
"I think that, for Prue, all of that feels like it really was several lifetimes ago," Phoebe said thoughtfully. "She told me once she'd been to Hell and back. I don't think she was being metaphorical."  
Paige digested that in silence for a moment.  
"How can we help her?" she asked finally.  
"I don't know, sweetie, I really don't," Phoebe said, hugging her sister tightly. "But . . . if this helps at all, Darryl told me today that you and I really have made a difference."  
"We have?"  
"He says we gave Prue her life back." She smiled. "He says we're helping, just by being here."  
"Good," Paige declared, resting her head against her sister's shoulder. "I don't want Prue to be sad. Not ever."  
"Me neither," Phoebe murmured in solemn agreement, then a happier thought occurred. "There is something you and I can do, though."  
"What's that?"  
"I think it's time for a new family photograph."  
"What, you, me and Prue?"  
"And Patience. And Darryl. And Henry, too, if he wants to join in."  
Paige mulled that over, and a slow smile spread over her face. She nodded. "I like that idea a lot." She grinned. "Just provides some extra insurance that you're not going anywhere."  
"I am going somewhere," Phoebe retorted. "I'm moving in with you, remember?"  
"I can't wait," Paige declared fervently. "We are still looking for apartments next weekend, right?"  
"Oh, yeah. Absolutely." But as she said it, a cloud passed over Phoebe's face.  
"Pheeble? What is it?" Paige asked.  
Phoebe shook her head, and forced herself to smile. "Nothing. It's just - sooner or later, I'm going to have to tell Prue, and-"  
Her voice broke, and traitorous tears began to well in Phoebe's eyes.  
"God damn it," she swore softly. "I can't even think about leaving her, without starting to cry."  
Paige hugged her sister tightly.  
"You need to tell her, Phoebe," she said quietly.  
"I know. I know," Phoebe blubbered. "It's just - when I first got here, Prue rescued me - again - like she always does . . . and I know she and Darryl need a place to themselves, but I just feel so awful, even thinking about moving out."  
"Hey, come on, you'll still see her almost every day," Paige offered consolingly. "And especially once she gets pregnant, which should be any second now, we aunties will be on-call constantly. We'll be babysitting to the point of exhaustion."  
"That's true," Phoebe laughed, wiping her tears away.  
"I know you love her. That won't change," Paige assured her. "But, you know, your baby sister needs you too. Desperately."  
Phoebe returned Paige's hug with equal force.  
"I love you, Shorty."  
"Yeah, I love you too, Pheeble. Even if you do get all mushy sometimes."  
As the sisters embraced, Henry's car pulled up outside the entrance.  
"Jeez, Pheeble, you don't have to go outside, it's freezing out," Paige objected, as they made for the door.  
"I just wanna wave at Henry," Phoebe said with grin. "Who knows, he might be family soon."  
Paige rolled her eyes. "Oh, God, I'm too scared to think about that yet."  
They stepped to the curb and Paige hurried to open the car door.  
"Hey, Henry, just wanted to say hi," Phoebe waved.  
"Hey, Phoebe," Henry Mitchell waved back from the driver's side of the vehicle.  
"Good night, you guys, drive safe," Phoebe said. "Paige, I'll see you at work tomorrow."  
"Yeah, I'd better," Paige retorted, then closed the car door. Phoebe pelted back inside to escape the bitter cold, and Henry's car pulled away from the curb.  
For a few moments, there was silence on the street, then two misshapen figures emerged, staying just inside the leading edge of the shadows.  
"You see? You see?" the first said to the other. "It was her. The Dark Charmed One."  
"It looked like her," the second replied, uncertainly.  
"Looked like, nothing, it's her," the first insisted. He sniffed the air. "And she has magic. Strong magic. They all do. It's so powerful you can almost see it."  
"Then - she's really back," the second shuddered. "The Queen has returned. And as powerful as ever. But what's she doing here? That other one with her - is she Charmed, too?"  
"You know what this means."  
"I don't understand this at all. Why has she not returned to her throne? Why is she here, playing at being a mortal?"  
"She will have her reasons. What we must do is spread the word. Our Queen has returned and we must be ready to serve. And perhaps - if we serve her well enough - she will restore our demonic powers to us."  
"The dome will fall? The Gates of Hell will open again?" The voice was almost hopeful.  
"Wide enough to swallow the entire world," the other replied, and for the first time, there was something malevolently triumphant in the voice - something not entirely human. "Come. There is much work to be done."  
The figures vanished again into the darkness. The silent streets of San Francisco, empty and impassive, remained preternaturally still in the bitter cold and the slow, inexorable wheeling of the winter stars.


End file.
